


The Royal We

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [107]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Family helps family. Sometimes right into the path of an oncoming car.
Relationships: Kustard, Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney, UnderFell Sans/UnderTale Sans, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus
Series: by any other name [107]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039829
Comments: 117
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

When they first came to this universe, it hadn’t taken long for Edge to realize that things were very different here than back home in Underfell, (no, not home, not for a long time now). The changes took some time to absorb and some might never fully integrate, as his freezer filled with stocked up meals would attest. But there were a few universal constants and while all of them grew up with their brother as their only relative, they all knew that family helped family. Even when that family was a pack of alternates who appeared later in life. 

Which was how Edge found himself on his day off sitting on the floor of what was currently Papyrus and Blue’s house, making party favors for Undyne’s baby shower.

The living room was strewn with decorations waiting to be placed, streamers and banners in an eclectic rainbow of colors, uninflated balloons spilling out of a bag like the leftover skins of a particularly garish fruit. The party itself wasn’t until tomorrow, but that left little time to waste, considering the plans Papyrus had drawn up. 

Plan was perhaps an overstatement, but Edge could never fault Papyrus for his enthusiasm. His color scheme, on the other hand—well. He’d never approved of the way some Humans were so obsessed with gender that they actually assigned colors at birth but there was a great distance between that and a design that might cause any guests with fleshier eyes to scramble for sunglasses. 

Papyrus was bustling around setting things up while the rest of them were sitting on the floor in a circle around a coffee table that was cluttered with craft supplies. He’d paired each of them off to work on separate projects and for all that the occasion was a joyous one, the mood was decidedly not. 

“how many of these things do we need, anyway?” Stretch grumbled. His and Jeff’s assigned duty was to pour a mixture of toffee-coated popcorn into small plastic bags, tie it closed with a ribbon, and then affix a sticker on the front that declared in cheery letters ‘Ready to Pop’!

Edge was morbidly curious as to how Undyne felt about that particular sentiment this close to the end of her pregnancy.

A glance at the finished bags confirmed that Stretch’s ribbons were less a bow and more a tangle of colorful knots, Jeff’s only a slight improvement. The bags were sealed at least, and Papyrus was more than content with the effort, which was all that really mattered. 

Besides, Edge was busy with his own task; planting tiny succulents into miniature pots, each with a painstakingly attached tag reading, ‘Watch Me Grow!’. Privately, he thought the small cacti were a far better representation of Undyne than any snack, but then, he wasn’t the one actually throwing the shower. 

“How many do we need,” Papyrus repeated thoughtfully. Edge pointedly did not ask about the garland in his hand which seemed to be made of dangling fish ornaments and…was that tomatoes? Edge decided it would be best not to know, lest he end up lying awake tonight with the answer still haunting him. “Well, there is Undyne’s co-workers in Security and Alphys’s at the lab, plus their neighbors and friends, and of course us!”

“i don’t need no damn cactus,” Red muttered sullenly. How Papyrus even got Red here was another burning question, though the answer was likely Sans sitting placidly right next to him. His collar was visible over the neckline of his t-shirt, the buckle glinting in the light. Occasionally he reached up absently to touch it as if to verify it hadn’t wandered off when he wasn’t looking. Their entire duty seemed to be putting cans of sparkling water into drink koozies emblazoned with such witticisms as ‘nacho average baby’ over a cartoon of a tortilla chip. It was anyone’s guess as to if that task was actually assigned to them or simply the one they’d decided on doing, but between them, there were four cans done after a half an hour of work. 

Sans managed to slide another can into a koozie, bringing their grand total to five. “paps, that didn’t really answer the question.”

“That would be because I am not finished counting!” Papyrus scolded. “There’s also Undyne’s ‘Cooking with Krav Maga’ class and naturally all the Dreemurr family will be coming.”

“great, ass-gore will be here,” Stretch muttered, fumbling to tie another ribbon with varying success. “i’ll be sure to bring my headphones.” 

Edge sighed inwardly. Stretch was in a prickly mood and had been all day, and it didn’t take a scientist-level IQ to know it had something to do with the baby shower. They’d known about this for days; when Papyrus asked if they would help, Edge hadn’t hesitated to agree. Now he was wondering if he shouldn’t have asked Stretch in advance. He hadn’t refused to come, but he’d been twitchy and snappish since getting up that morning, only getting worse when they came over. If the party were for anyone but Undyne, Edge would have suggested they go home. 

Adding to the irritation was Red in a poor mood of his own and he hadn’t a single qualm about casting sparks around a gasoline spill. “good, no one wants to hear you flappin’ your yap, anyway. save your 280 characters for your twitter freaks.”

“aww, jealous?” Stretch cooed, “‘cause, you talk so much crap, i dunno whether to you need toilet paper or a breath mint.”

Edge exchanged a weary look with Blue, who returned it with equal exasperation. Those two had been sniping at each other all morning and it was Blue’s turn to attempt a least a little fire prevention. 

“Really, Papy, that’s enough,” Blue said reprovingly. That might stop them briefly, but they all knew from past experience it wouldn’t last. Red and Stretch were alike in a number of dissatisfying ways, past the darkened circles of exhaustion that were currently visible beneath both their sockets. For one, most of them weren’t above returning a good insult with a better one, but Red and Stretch could be particularly vicious about it. Usually it was better to let them simply work it out between themselves; trying to intercede past a little mild scolding usually ended up getting you mixed up in the spat. 

This time Edge was tempted, if only because Jeff looked supremely uncomfortable. He fumbled with his latest little bag of popcorn and ended up with a good portion bouncing into his lap rather than the treat bag.

For the time being, Sans seemed content to allow them to try to rein in their brothers, and that would likely last until their petty squabbling might upset Papyrus. Who thus far either hadn’t noticed or was content to allow the others to handle it. Edge hoped it was the latter. The crack in Papyrus’s skull was still starkly visible, although his balance seemed much improved, if the way he all but leapt from the ladder was any indication, digging furiously through an overflowing box of even more decorations. 

“sure, bro,” Stretch said to his brother’s scold, and then promptly added a mumble of, “don’t see why he has to be here, anyway.”

“’cause it ain’t your party, it’s hers, and she’d want ‘im,” Red grumbled. Then, in a smirking sotto voce, “’sides, i figure he’s the baby daddy so be kinda rude not to at least give ‘im a party favor.”

“There is no baby daddy, since neither Undyne nor Alphys want to be called daddy, and it’s much ruder to speculate,” Papyrus called primly, confirming that he was indeed listening to the ongoing bickering. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the growing balloon sculpture critically. Edge joined him in looking, biting the tip of his tongue to hold back any questions, especially on whether the design was supposed to be Undyne or an eggplant. Never ask when you didn’t want to know the answer and Papyrus wove in another long, purple balloon as he went on, “and also Asgore can’t be the donor because I am.”

A hush of silence fell, along with a number of wide sockets and eyes turning to Papyrus’s direction. No one’s were wider than Sans’s at what was obviously unexpected news to him as he blurted, "seriously, bro? you're the one who handed over the baby batter for undyne?”

Papyrus frowned at them all reprovingly. “That is rude AND crude, I'll thank you not to refer to it that way.”

"sorry, bro, but fuck,” Sans sputtered, “you didn’t say anything!”

"Is there a reason I would need to?” Papyrus asked, brow bones raised, “Undyne is my best friend and wanted a child, so of course I would help provide the necessary material in her time of need!"

“necessary material,” Stretch muttered, his face scrunching up, and in that Edge could only agree, “right.” He nudged Jeff with an elbow, who yelped aloud and jumped, sending up another miniature shower of popcorn, “uh, andy, i know we're best buds and all, but if you ever need--"

“Nope, I’m good,” Jeff said, a touch too loudly. 

“happy to hear it.” Stretch gave him a grin that slowly faded. “see? so if asgore didn’t donate his, uh, time and effort, he can stay home."

“Honestly, Papy you can’t—" Blue began reprovingly, only to be drowned out by Red’s loud snort. 

“what the fuck is your problem with asgore, anyway,” Red grumbled. He picked at his gold tooth, a tell that sent tension winding up Edge’s spine even as his brother added with lazy viciousness, “get over it already, you act like he’s your ex who fucked you over.” 

The day seemed to be one for unexpected silences. Only this time the stares were directed at Stretch, who said nothing. He only sat white-faced, cellophane crinkling loudly as his hands fisted around the bag in his lap, his skull draining of color as he managed to look at anything but those stares. 

Red let out a harsh chortle of laughter, “seriously? all this time you’ve been holier than thou about his lv and it’s actually ‘cause you used to give him the bone over in your ‘verse? fuck, now there is a mental picture,” Red moaned out gleefully, “oooh, fuzzy ass, stick it to me good! ram me with your furry wand of wonder and i’ll get your goat!”

A chorus of protests rose up, with Edge’s snarl of, “That’s enough!” rising to the top. 

But Stretch was already standing, a litter of colorful ribbons shedding from his lap as he walked swiftly to the door. 

“Rus—" Edge stood to chase after him, cursing his damned leg as it threatened to buckle under him. It was an exercise in futility from the start, as he’d known it would be. Stretch shortcutted the moment he was out the door, heading off Angel knew where to lose himself in the stew of his own thoughts. The temptation to look up where he’d reappeared on the phone app was strong, but Edge resisted it. Stretch had the right to be alone if that was what he wanted, particularly after that dig. 

He sighed and went back into the house. Only to pause as he saw the various looks had transferred to him, all of them guarded, particularly Blue; his starry eye lights seemed to be anticipating anger at Stretch. As if this made any damned difference between them. Even Jeff looked near tears, like he expected Edge to already have Antwan on the phone demanding him to draw up divorce papers. It was damn well insulting, and he glared back at them all until those gazes dropped, Blue’s reluctantly last. 

All except for his own brother. Red was grinning, savagely pleased, and if they wanted anger, the simmering urge to shout at his brother was rising to a roiling boil in him, his LV waking in his soul to twinge eagerly at the heat of it. Only that was likely exactly what his brother wanted, to be punished for his casual cruelties. Whatever was troubling Red, Edge wasn’t about to reward his masochism. 

His own anger fell swiftly into disappointment; lately Red had been bordering on kind with Stretch, if it could be called that, treating him as a brother, or better, if Edge were honest with himself. A brother that needed his protection as Edge decidedly did not. It’d been some time since he’d deliberately needled Stretch and Edge couldn’t even understand why he’d chosen to do so today. Whatever his petty reasons, they weren’t sufficient enough to excuse that. 

Edge kept his voice low and even as he said, “That was cruel.”

That satisfied smirk faltered and Red shifted to lean forward. “yeah? well, it's about time he starts getting’ over it. it ain’t the same guy and he’s married to you.”

“Affection for someone else is not any kind of betrayal and considering that all of you calculated our worlds have ceased to exist, there isn’t much opportunity for closure, is there,” Edge said, acid creeping in. "The state of my marriage is no concern of yours."

Red’s sockets fell half-closed as he said, dangerously soft, "you think so, boss?"

Then he flinched suddenly, yelping as Sans slapped him upside the head. "you’re so eager for stretch to get over shit, how about you practice what you preach.” He shoved a can of sparkling water into Red’s lap. “shut up and put on a fucking koozie.”

Red scowled hard and Edge did not miss his crimson gaze flicking to the collar around Sans's throat. Grudgingly, he did what he was told. 

“Do not interfere with my marriage,” Edge said coolly. Not that such a statement would stop his brother, but at least it was said between them. Then to Papyrus. “I am sorry, but."

Papyrus only flapped his hands at him, shooing him away, “No, no, go, talk to Stretchy Me! I’m sure Cherry here would like to think about how much he hurt Stretch’s feelings and yours, his own brother, who has recently suffered an injury. And there are my own injuries to consider as well, sticks, stones, and words do hurt!" 

Edge let him ramble and started for the door, then hesitated. The others were accustomed to a certain amount of internal friction, some of it formerly his and Stretch’s, from the moment they woke up in this universe. Their Human companion was not so inured to it and Edge crouched to set a ginger hand on Jeff’s shoulder, “Jeff, I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” Jeff waved it off, offering up a lopsided grin. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen Thanksgiving at my grandparent’s place. Don’t think my grandma ever got the gravy stains off the ceiling.”

“can’t just drop a hint like that and not give the story, andy,” Sans said, lightly. The others murmured agreement, eager to latch onto another topic. 

Edge could hear as he went out the door, “Well, uh, see, my grandpa was originally from Norway, and—”

There were any number of places Stretch might go to nurse his internal wounds, but Edge had a fairly good guess as to the likeliest one. He drove home, parked his car in the driveway, but instead of heading up to the front porch, he went around the side of the house towards their fenced backyard. Before he was even close, he could hear Stretch talking and he went quietly through the gate to see him sitting outside the coop with Noodle settled into his lap, the laces of his untied sneakers trailing into the grass for Dumpling to peck at.

His skull was resting against one of the support posts, still too pale, his sockets closed and his vape drooping loosely from his long fingers. Vaping instead of smoking cropped up sometimes when Stretch was truly irritated, as if he subconsciously wanted control over something and settled for his nicotine addiction. Or perhaps it was to protect his feathered companions from secondhand smoke. 

Noodle didn’t seem bothered either way, chirring softly as Stretch stroked his free hand down her back. 

“—not like i don’t know i’m being a dick. that guy just pisses me off sometimes. asgore, not red. actually, they both piss me off, now that you mention it.”

Noodle made an inquisitive sound and Stretch sighed out a cloud of vapor. “yeah, yeah, i was in a mood before we even went over. i dunno, all that baby shit gets on my nerves for some reason.” He scratched lightly under Noodle’s chin and she cooed contentedly. “you’re right, it’s no excuse for being shitty. especially to papyrus, he’s all excited about throwing this party. even if the balloon thing was creepy, you should’ve seen it, like cthulhu’s second cousin after failed plastic surgery.”

“You weren’t being a dick.” Edge said, quietly. Stretch tensed and his sockets slid open, but he didn’t look up, his pale eye lights straying down on his poultry pal. Edge walked over and sat next to them, keeping a careful distance away, easily breached if Stretch wished, or a comforting barrier if he didn’t. “Perhaps a little rude.” Edge held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “A little. My brother, on the other hand, was embracing his dickish nature.”

Stretch made a faint, amused sound, “red embracing his dick was not a chat i was expecting today.”

Then he leaned to the side, crossing the distance between them to rest his skull on Edge’s shoulder. He took the unsubtle hint and slid an arm around his husband’s slim shoulders, holding him in close, closing his sockets against the faint tremble in Stretch’s voice as softly spoke. 

“he wasn’t my boyfriend. fuck, i never saw him get out of the ruins. i…might’ve given it a shot if he had,” his voice dropped to a bare whisper and Edge hummed encouragingly, already anticipating what was coming, “but i was fucking everyone back then. i was maybe a little infatuated, okay? that’s it.”

“All right,” Edge said, calmly, even as he tightened his arm around Stretch, holding him closer still. He was not jealous of Stretch’s yesterdays; his only commitments were his tomorrows, and despite what his brother might think, Edge was certainly not about to allow anything so trivial as a former crush on a dead man come between them. 

Stretch heaved a watery little sigh. “but that isn’t it, not really. he was my friend and i promised him i’d take care of the kid. instead i—"

“Did what you had to do,” Edge interrupted firmly. He understood impossible situations better than most, his own LV-tainted soul aching to think of Stretch enduring what he had for so long, an impossible choice to make between his world and the intent of a murderous child. 

Yet, even now, Stretch couldn’t be convinced that was true. He only sighed out a quiet, “sure.” Then, louder, “anyway. he was my friend. he would have hated to see what he was in this world. it’s just…it’s hard sometimes.”

“I know.” Hard to see alternates of people they’d known, a lifetime of memories to be set aside while learning a new person with an old face. Undyne was his own personal struggle and Edge could call her friend, but it wasn’t the same, it couldn’t be.

Next to him, Stretch snuggled in closer even as Noodle let out a querulous protest over the lack of petting. “i’ve been thinking. my hp is on the rise, right?”

“It’s 5 and a quarter, love,” Edge said dryly, reaching over to offer the chicken a gentle pat, Noodle’s dismay quickly turning to a rapturous croon, “and as happy as I am for it, I’d prefer if you didn’t decide to take up hang gliding or street fighting.”

"you're hilarious, babe." Another long, slow breath, before Stretch blurted, "i know i kinda railroaded you when we talked about this before. if you really want kids--" he faltered, his voice breaking as Edge listened in dismayed confusion, "i mean, if that's…we could…"

Suddenly Edge knew precisely what Rus was going to offer and he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to think in even the tiniest way that he’d lost some measure of Edge’s love by preferring not to have children and and he didn’t know how to stop him from strangling out the words. 

So Edge cupped his face in a hand and turned Stretch’s head towards him to kiss that stammering mouth lingeringly, until he stopped trying and simply melted into the gentle touch. By the time he drew away, Stretch was the one making thin, dismayed sounds, trying to chase after that kiss for more, his eye lights hazy soft. Instead, Edge pressed a light, teasing kiss to the slight nodule of his nasal cavity.

"No, I don’t think so,” Edge told him, slow and carefully. Watching that much-loved face to make sure Stretch was hearing him. “I’ve considered it and I’ve decided I’m entirely too busy to add parenthood to my schedule. I’m going back to the Y this week, I think I’m better off trying to secure a place in this world for the children already in it.”

Poorly hidden relief flickered over Stretch’s face and Edge leaned in to kiss him again, silently hoping that he was truly believed this time. There was no doubt in his mind that Stretch would force himself to endure the stresses of having a child if he thought Edge wished it, but making Stretch bear the weight of unwanted parenthood was a nightmare not to be considered. He’d love the child, surely, but at what cost? Far higher than Edge would ever consider paying. 

A sudden cackle came from inside the coop and Stretch jerked away, sitting bolt upright. 

“the egg!” Stretch gasped, scrambling to his feet, “i never did get a chance to research her adopted egg. you think maybe it actually—” _hatched_ , he did not say, almost superstitiously hopeful.

“It’s possible,” Edge hedged, doubtfully. They both started into the coop, only for a voice calling over the fence to stop them. 

“Hello? Hello, is anyone home?” The words were couched with near panic and the voice was a familiar one. Stretch beat him to the fence, opening the gate as he limped as quickly as he could over.

“Janice?” Edge said, surprised and concerned. The fur on her face was matted and wet with tears and she wrung her hands, shaking as she tried to speak. It brought back unpleasant memories of the attack at the Embassy, when one of the protesters threw a brick at her. Even then her pain and fear were tempered under practicality as she asked Antwan to bring her children to the hospital, her thoughts on keeping her boys from fearing Humans more than they already might. To see her bereft of her usual firm control was concerning. 

“Calm down,” Edge soothed, pulling her into his arms without a thought, even as he cast a wary glance around the neighborhood. Nothing seemed out of order, not yet, “What’s happened?”

She leaned against him heavily and he nearly staggered back a step. Tall as he was, they were of nearly an equal weight. “It’s Jude, he didn’t come home for lunch and I can’t find him anywhere!” She hitched out a sob. “None of the other children have seen him, my family has been looking but we can’t find him, I can’t—”

Her voice dissolved and Edge gave her a last pat before firmly pushing her into his husband’s startled arms. 

“Stretch, stay with her,” Edge commanded, reaching for his phone, “I’m going to make some calls.”

“yeah, sure,” Stretch agreed hastily. He rubbed a soothing hand down her back as Janice struggled against her tears. “hey, we’ll find him. little guy couldn’t have gotten too far.”

Edge was already pulling up his contact list and couldn’t help the darkly sour thought that if this didn’t pull his brother out of his bad mood, nothing would.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just remember as you're reading this that all endings are eventually happy ones in 'By Any Other Name'!

* * *

One of the first things Red set up for the newly created security department in New New Home was a phone tree for calling out in case of an emergency. The first contact called their contacts, those contacts called theirs, and so on. Slightly archaic, perhaps, but Red had his reasons, bluntly explained, “if you actually talk to ‘em, you know they got the message and it don’t get jumbled up in a buncha chat replies. no one ever has ta call more’n three people, so it don’t take long and we got a better idea of whose gonna show up.”

In this case, it worked perfectly. It hardly took more than a couple of minutes for Edge to call his contacts and within ten, Monsters were already showing up at the house. 

Edge spread out a map of New New Home on the hood of his car, using a felt-tipped pen to mark off grids. Next to it was a picture of Jude taken from their own refrigerator, proudly holding up the lumpy volcano he made one weekend in one of Stretch’s impromptu science classes. So young, only six years old, still an infant when they came to the surface; he would have no memories of living underground, nothing but his entire life on the surface to look forward to. 

He glanced back at the porch where Stretch was sitting with Janice, talking to her in a low, soothing murmur, her other son sitting at their feet. She’d tried to rush off again to search, but in her panicked state, Edge was more concerned that she’d end up hurting herself than finding her son. He didn’t know what Stretch told her that convinced her to stay, but then, Stretch was always good at finding the right thing to say. If she couldn’t be coaxed to sit inside, then the porch was a reasonable alternative. 

The Dog family was unsurprisingly the first to arrive, their oversized SUV pulling up next to the curb. Their protective nature towards children extended far beyond their own and every member of their family was present, even the youngest pup tucked sleeping into a carrier strapped to Dogamy’s back. 

Without a word, Edge held up a small jacket, one of Jude’s, brought to them by his older brother, Oscar. If he weren’t already heavily invested in finding this child, Oscar’s expression would have cemented it, his fears hidden beneath brave determination to help protect his little brother in any way he could. It stirred old memories, ones that Edge rudely shoved away as the Dogs passed the jacket around, each of them sniffing intently. 

“Dogamy, you and Dogaressa start in grid one,” Edge ordered, tapping the square on the map with a gloved fingertip. “That’s the last place he was seen, see if you can pick up a scent. Greater Dog and Doggo, grid two. If you find anything, call my cell phone before you come back, all right?”

“Got it,” Dogamy growled out. His wife nodded and the two of them loped off, their kin at their heels even as more cars began arriving, other Monsters walking up to get their own search grid.

Not long after, Undyne pulled up and came to a screeching stop at the curb, struggling to get from behind the wheel of her jeep. For most of her pregnancy, she’d hardly showed, but in the past couple weeks, she’d…blossomed, was the word Alphys used, her eyes glowing with adoration behind the lenses of her glasses. Privately, Edge thought ballooned might be more fitting considering the waddle she’d recently gained as she made her way towards him.

“Whatcha got left,” Undyne pushed in next to him to examine the map. With her belly leading the way, she very nearly bounced him into the yard. 

Edge recovered and returned, leaning back in. “There’s a few grids left,” Edge said. He pointed out a sector. “We started closest to where he was last seen and spiraled out.”

“Good plan,” Undyne murmured. 

“If you’re thinking of taking a grid for yourself, I’d like to invite you to think again.” Edge let his gaze drop meaningfully to her swollen belly. Her t-shirt could no longer contain it and from beneath the hem an expanse of taut, deep blue skin was peeking out, paler stretch marks striping along the sides, battle scars, according to her and Edge did not doubt it. 

She graced him with a shameless, needle-sharp grin and gave her exposed belly a scratch, “Like you could stop me? Nah, Al already gave me a fin-full, I’m here for support purposes only.” She leaned in again, bracing a clawed hand on the hood as she studied the marked off grids with a nod, “Looks like you’ve got it mostly covered, anyway. Kid couldn’t have gotten too far, Dogs’ll sniff him out.”

Edge glanced up at the porch again where Janice was sitting, holding a coffee mug in clenched hands. Next to her on the table was a pile of crumpled tissues, the box close by. His competent assistant was nowhere in sight, lost in her worries for her son. Edge pitched his voice low as he said, “Let’s hope so.”

At that moment, there came a burst of sound from behind them reminiscent of the false flatulence from San’s whoopy cushion. To Edge, it was annoyingly familiar, the sound of his brother’s teleportation caused by the displaced air. Stretch’s sounded more like the sharp pop from a bubble of chewing gum, and Edge did not assume that the shortcutters in their family had control of the sound it made past the fact that it made sound at all, but he couldn’t help noting sourly that it suited their personalities nonetheless.

Undyne was less accustomed to having short skeletons popping in and out around her, and she jumped, her unsteady balance almost sending her sprawling on the car hood as she swore, “Fuck me, Red, give a little warning!”

Red snorted loudly, “ya look like someone beat me to it.” 

He ignored her renewed curses, crawling up on the bumper to get a view of the map, sneakers squeaking against the fiberglass while Edge grit his teeth. He still hadn’t forgiven Red for his earlier cruelty, but this wasn’t the time. “Where is Sans?”

Red shrugged, his eye lights intent on the map, “checking a few things.” 

Casually said and Edge left it at that. As this world’s Judge, Sans might have some insight into possible scenarios, he always knew more than he should. Like his brother. Like Stretch. 

Edge knew little about Judging, by design. He hadn’t even known his brother was one until he became Captain of the Guard and it was Asgore who advised him of what it might entail, a discussion best forgotten. Stretch never brought it up, even on the very rare occasions when he spoke of Chara. It was easy to forget the unpleasant role he was forced to play in his own world. 

“this area here is clear,” Red tapped a finger on grid seven, the one near the school. Edge didn’t question him, only crossed out the square and a low, distant howl made them all look up to see Dogaressa loping towards them, her long pink tongue lolling out as she ran. 

“Report,” Edge said crisply even as she panted, catching her breath.

*Scent was strong, leaving his yard, went two streets, south,* she pointed at the map and Edge circled where she indicated. *then gone.*

“Gone? How could it be gone?” Edge demanded. 

Dogaressa shook her head sadly, *Bike, car, vehicle of some sort, maybe. Not enough trace to follow. We’ll keep scouting, see if we can’t pick up the trail again.*

“Thank you,” Edge said, heavily. He chose not to look at Janice; seeing the crumbling hope on her face wouldn’t help find her son any faster. 

Dogaressa nodded and loped off again.

Red hopped down from the bumper. “gonna head off, too, bro, got some cameras i can check, see if we can get a bead on him.” He reached up and pointed with a sharp-tipped finger. “get someone out to grid eight.”

“That’s very far for him to have traveled.”

“not with a bike or somethin’ and there’s a kinda treehouse out there that the kiddos use.” Red lowered his voice, “if it was a car, we got other problems than a simple lost kid.”

“I know,” Edge murmured. He spared a glance at Undyne who was listening silently with her hands folded over her belly. Her expression was a thundercloud; none of them wanted to voice their suspicions aloud. Much as he wished otherwise, Monsters were not exempt from criminals in their ranks, even where children were concerned. That was one of the few areas that Edge left in the control of others. He couldn’t trust himself to face anyone who would deliberately hurt a child, his soul burned even to consider it, a coal set inside his ribcage as he struggled to rid himself of the very thought. Janice needed his cool competence, not undefined rage at someone who might very well not exist.

Next to him, Undyne visibly struggled with her own anger, cradling her belly in both hands. “Go see if you can figure out what happened to the kid, Red,” she said low, “we’re depending on you, boss.”

Red grimaced, teeth gnashing, “don’t go giving me titles now, i’m more the take-ya-to-my-leader type.” He stepped back, vanishing into the void. 

There was nothing to do but continue the search until Red reported back. Edge returned to the map, considering who to send to the next grid when a tug at his elbow made him jerk, very nearly lashing out. He stifled the reaction back, forcibly tamping down the agitated LV in his soul; his frustrations and anger were not serving him well here, blast it all.

At his side, Oscar looked up at Edge without the slightest clue to his inner turmoil. He was entirely too invested in his own, twisting his hands together with bright tears glimmering his eyes. Edge crouched down, close to his height, and asked with as much gentleness as he could muster, “Oscar? What is it?”

The child mumbled something too low to be heard. 

Edge glanced at Undyne and handed over the pen in a silent ask for her to take over. She nodded, already grabbing her phone, as Edge said, coaxingly, “It’s all right, Oscar, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s my fault,” Oscar said, low. The tears standing out in his eyes finally shed, dripping down to wet the short fur on his face. “It’s all my fault.”

Edge exhaled slowly. “How is it your fault?”

“I yelled at him,” Oscar burst out, his voice breaking on a sob, “We were tryin’ to set up a fort and he kept knocking things over, ‘n getting in the way. I yelled at him to go away and now—”

Of course. Children were alike no matter where they were from, it seemed, so often taking on a disproportional amount of blame that no one expected them to carry. Edge slid a careful arm around his quivering shoulders and gave him a gentle little shake, “Oscar, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

He nodded, sopping at his wet face with his sleeve.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is--!”

“No,” Edge said firmly. “Sometimes brothers fight, sometimes they say things they don’t mean.”

That caught Oscar’s attention. He frowned, reluctantly intrigued, or perhaps hopeful to think an adult like Edge still squabbled with his brother. “You and your brother fight?”

“Constantly,” Edge said dryly, “and as recently as today. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him or that I wish any hurt on him. It doesn’t mean I don’t care. You didn’t mean for Jude to wander off, it is not your fault. All right? Now, go sit with your mother. She loves you both very much and she needs you right now.”

He nodded, a little less miserably and headed back to the porch where Stretch and Janice were still sitting. Janice enfolded her son into her arms the moment he was in reach and the two of them clung to each other. Stretch leaned in to say something and Janice nodded. He stood and headed towards Edge, quick strides that were nothing like his usual lazy saunter.

“babe,” Stretch said, low, “i'm gonna head off and help look.”

Edge resisted the initial, ridiculous urge to deny him. Stretch was an adult, older than him as Stretch so often liked to point out, and Edge could hardly forbid him the right to join the search groups. They were in New New Home, not out in Ebott amongst the Humans, he couldn’t play at the protector by keeping his husband under lock and key. “All right,” Edge agreed, softly. “What grid do you want?”

“none,” Stretch said. He reached over and waved a hand loosely over the map. “babe, this is the right direction for everyone else, but i'm not about to stick myself to one spot when i can be halfway across town in two steps. you,” he pointed at Edge, “stay put, rally the troops or whatever, you do not need to be tromping around on that leg.”

“I hadn't planned on it.” He did not say he’d already mentally calculated the damages vs what assistance he could provide. The possible benefits did not outweigh the costs, it was not worth losing searchers if they were forced to assist him. Before Stretch could vanish, Edge blurted out, “I love you.”

It earned him a lopsided smile in return, “love you, too.” And with a single step Stretch was gone, shortcutting away nearly silently while Edge turned back to the map and Undyne, readying the next wave of searchers. 

Hours went by, various groups checking in as they finished searching their grid. As soon as their section was cleared, a person was assigned in it to stay while the others moved on. 

A text came from his brother, terse information that Jude climbed on a scooter where the Dogs lost his scent, and he’d been traveling north when he disappeared from camera view. The relief that he hadn’t gotten into a car was brief and the search was redirected, grids marked off. Jeff and Antwan reported nothing, as did the Bun family, who paused only briefly to comfort their kin before heading back out in search of hers. Doggo returned, tail between his legs, to report that the scent hadn’t been found again. 

The day was dragging on, the weather cooling as the sun dipped lower, but they weren’t giving up, not with a child out there lost in it. 

Undyne went inside to use the bathroom twice, muttering about her abused bladder and pausing to talk with Janice and Oscar each time. On her last trip, she brought out the blanket that was usually draped over the back of the sofa, bundling the two of them in its warm folds. Her earnestly encouraging expression fell when she began walking back to Edge, replaced with more grimness with every minute that ticked past. 

“There was nothing in grid twenty-five,” Papyrus said. His normal exuberance was dulled, his earlier confidence that Jude would quickly be found wavering into disbelief.

Undyne gave him a punch on the arm that nearly sent him to the ground, “Don’t you even give a hint that you’re giving up, nerd,” Undyne hissed. She jerked her head towards the house. “And sure as fuck not in front of moms back there.”

“Of course not!” Papyrus lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, “Now I need a new grid to search!”

It was starting to get dark, the sun cresting the horizon and sending the neighborhood into dim twilight. Edge went into the garage and flipped on the outside lights, illuminating his car and the map on it. 

“Edge,” Undyne leaned in, her voice pitched low, “Look, I know none of us want to think it, but we might need to look into contacting the Human Authorities.”

“Noted,” Edge said tersely. 

“Humans have gotten in here before, and if one did and snatched the kid, the longer we wait, the—”

She broke off, grimacing, her shoulders hunching as her hand hovered over her belly. 

Edge could only stand with his own hands hovering uncertainly even as he said, sharply, "Are you all right?"

A long moment passed, then she managed, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't you bullshit me, if you make me deliver your child, I will never forgive you."

Undyne gave a rough laugh, "Pal, giving you a front row seat to my shrimp salad is nowhere on my menu. Braxton Hicks contractions, been having ‘em for weeks." She took a couple of long, slow breaths, then straightened, “Now, about the Humans.”

“I have no issue with Humans, I have plenty of issues with the Human authorities,” Edge snapped. Behind him, he heard a small, alarmed sound from Janice and lowered his voice, “even if a Human somehow managed to get into New Home without being seen, snatch Jude, again without witnesses, and miraculously leave with him the same way they came in, I’m not convinced the Ebott Police would actually assist us.” Edge paused, his mouth twisting, “That said, Asgore contacted the mayor’s office already, they are aware of the situation.”

Undyne made a rude sound, “Should’ve known you were a step ahead of me.” She glanced at the porch. “I’m gonna sit with mama up there for a few, it’s getting dark, she’s worried out of her mind, and my dogs are barking the moonlight sonata.”

“Go sit,” Edge told her, softly. He watched her waddle up the sidewalk, that encouraging expression already pasted into place, then he looked out into the neighborhood. The streetlights were coming on, bright puddles of light spaced out along the road that left dark patches between them. 

Flashlights were on their way, but what were the odds of their search parties finding the child in the dark when they couldn’t find him in the daylight? Edge shook the thought away, despair had no place here, they would keep searching until the child was found. No matter what.

Even as he thought it, he heard the sudden pop of teleportation, bubblegum sweet, and he turned to see Stretch tumbling out into the middle of their front yard with Jude in his arms. Both of them were filthy, their clothing stained and soiled with dried leaves clinging. One was tangled stubbornly into one of Jude’s floppy ears. Jude’s small face was awash with tears and Stretch’s pale and sweaty, as if perhaps he’d teleported them some distance and was at the end of his endurance. 

Before Edge could demand answers or even move, Janice was stumbling from the porch, tripping into the grass and crawling towards her son, laughing and crying in the same breath. 

Stretch handed him awkwardly over, "he's okay, mama, little cold and tired, maybe."

"Thank you," she sobbed out, clinging to her child. Jude was holding on just as tight and both of them slung an arm around Oscar when he joined them. Janice managed to pull away long enough to ask, laughing around her tears, “Where? Where was he?”

“out in old new home,” Stretch slumped back into the grass, sockets tiredly closed. “there’s some paths out there that the kids like, leftover from when they were putting up those first houses. looks like when they stopped construction, they tossed some boards over a pit and didn’t fill it in. kiddo was lucky enough to find it, huh, champ?”

Jude only clung to his mother, his sobs muffled into her shoulder. Headlights were already coming down the street, groups returning from the search. Chances were Red alerted them the child was found, and as they poured from their cars, all their expressions were ones of purest relief.

“I’ll get a team out first thing in the morning to fill it in,” Edge began, “Stretch, can you show me on the map where—”

Undyne’s voice interrupted him, soaring over the growing crowd. “Now that we found the kid, can, uh, someone take me to the hospital? Think it’s time for me to meet my rugrat in person.”

The brief silence was almost as deafening as the sudden chorus that rose up of Monsters volunteering. In the end Papyrus took her, loudly claiming his right as Best Bud. Edge only stood back, grateful that it wasn’t him, and watched as Undyne nearly punched him for trying to help her into the car. The crowd began to thin, Jeff and Antwan heading off to retrieve Alphys and the Bun family claiming Janice and her children in between profuse thank yous.

Janice paused as she walked past him, Jude in her arms and Oscar at her side. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was hoarse from crying, brimming with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” Edge told her with quiet sincerity, and when he awkwardly held his arms out, she immediately leaned into the brief embrace. As she headed towards her brother’s car, Edge called out impulsively, “You can pay me back by handling all the press briefings tomorrow!”

Her sudden laughter was a relief from the previous onslaught of tears, “That’s a deal, _boss_!”

The other searchers had already headed for home, happy ending achieved, and Edge turned back to their house…and saw that Stretch hadn’t stood up yet. He was still sitting in the damp grass with his skull cradled in his hands. 

“Love?” Edge knelt and saw with some alarm that his sockets were tightly closed. He was trembling, his hands rattling against his skull as they shook, and the bones were bleached nearly white, the soft orange glow of magic that usually lit his joints was dim. “Rus? Are you all right?”

“help me inside?” Stretch asked, tightly.

He very nearly scooped Stretch into his arms, injured leg be damned, and right into the car to head in for a room next to Undyne’s in the hospital. Instead, Edge tamped that impulse down and did as Stretch asked. Carefully helped him to his feet and guided him to the door, pausing only to snatch up the blanket from the chair Janice had been sitting in before leading him inside.

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you follow me on twitter or tumblr, you likely already know I recently tested positive for Covid. This has slowed my normal output, but eh, writing is a pretty good distraction so I'll do what I can. Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

Instinct was a tricky thing, Edge knew. Occasionally useful, generally unreliable, most of his instinctual urges for fight or flight had been forcibly trained away by his brother by the time Edge was old enough to be left alone so that Red could go out and scrounge food for them. Instinct was not to be relied upon and taking an instant to assess a situation before blindly engaging meant the difference between dust and another day. 

And so, while instinct was clamoring inside him to scoop Stretch directly into his arms and carry him inside, right up to their bedroom to bar the door, his brother’s training remained and allowed him the logic to know that if he tried it, Stretch would very much resent it and might revolt, taking a shortcut to anywhere and dragging Edge along on the nauseating ride as punishment. That was strain that Stretch did not need and vomit that Edge’s boots could do without. Better to side with logic and help Stretch make his slow way to the sofa. 

But there was no sigh of relief when they reached it. Stretch only blindly lowered himself to the cushions. He rolled to his side, both arms clutched around his skull and a low, thin whine escaped him. Edge tried to cover him with the blanket still in his hands but Stretch flung it off almost immediately. Small wonder, there was sweat beading on his skull, pale orange running down the sides of his face to soak in where it was still buried in his sweatshirt-covered arms. 

“I’m calling the doctor,” Edge said tersely. He didn’t know what was wrong, but this was past any ordinary headache. He couldn’t simply stand here and watch his husband quiver in wretched pain, already reaching for his phone. Only to hesitate as Stretch jerked half-upright, looking out from underneath his shading arms long enough to shake his head wildly before sinking back down with a wince. 

“no! no, they can’t help, i just need to…i gotta tamp it back down.” Stretch let out a shuddery breath, whimpering out, “it’s been so long.”

Edge lowered himself down to the floor next to the sofa, stretching out his bad leg with a grimace; it was letting him know on no uncertain terms that he’d been standing for too long. The urge to touch Stretch, to offer some comfort, was overwhelming and likely unwelcome. Instead he gripped his phone, only loosening his hold when the case creaked ominously. “What’s been so long? How can I help?”

“can’t.” A single word, clipped and pained. Not at all what Edge wanted to hear. His phone groaned again in his hand and Edge tossed it carelessly on the coffee table. not bothering to watch it clatter to a stop. At least he could spare his devices any further trauma. 

For too long he sat and watched as jerky tremors rocked through his husband. His eye lights tracing Stretch’s hands where they were clenched together over his skull, the bones bleached pale and joints taut. In tiny increments, his grip eased, his breathing slowed. 

“there,” Stretch sighed out. “there, that’s…that’s better, a little better.”

“What’s a little better?” Edge asked, worried and frustrated. “What is going on here? Explain.” This was something new, an unwelcome snag in their homey life quilt, and the sudden tension that seized Stretch had nothing to do with pain. “Please, tell me, don’t leave me out of this.” 

“i won’t,” Stretch whispered, low and resigned. “can’t, really.” He moved to lay on his back, one slim arm still slung over his sockets as he sighed heavily and began, every word slow, chosen with care. “i was sitting on the porch with janice when sans messaged me, asked for help. i almost said no, it’s been so long, but. it was starting to get dark and cold, i couldn’t let jude stay out any longer, not if i could help find him. so i met up with sans and we went looking for his soul.”

That gave him a pause, nothing like he’d expected, if he’d expected anything at all. “You…what?”

“we…i looked for his soul,” Stretch repeated doggedly, “gave up the job but i still have the tools. sans was already trying, but i have more magic than him, you know that much. i can _see_ further, i had a better shot from the get-go.

“You Checked for him?” Edge asked, confused. None of what Stretch was saying made sense. Checks wouldn’t be useful in a search, the range was only a few feet and required a certain amount of focus. He reached out to feel Stretch’s skull above his blocking arm, searching his forehead for a fever. If this were some sort of pain-driven delirium, he needed to call the doctor, right now.

Stretch flinched away, cringing back into the sofa cushions. “no, no, not a check. i can see souls without pulling them. we can, judges can. only problem is you can’t really narrow the field, it’s all or nothing.” He shuddered, curling inward and swallowing convulsively, his tongue rasping dryly over his teeth. “saw too many people, too many souls, all over, while they were searching. even a glimpse is so much. just need a few minutes, y’know, s’like a watch, you gotta let it wind itself back down.”

“You can see souls,” Edge repeated, slowly, as if the words would somehow make more sense if he drew them out. But the meaning didn’t change no matter how it was said. Judges could see souls, Sans and Red and Stretch, they could see them without first pulling them free from a Monsters’ chest, they could see…they could see so much, he said. Too much. 

Dawning understanding was rising, coupled with a highly unpleasant thought and nausea of his own stirred. Edge spoke without thinking, his voice preternaturally calm as he asked, “Have you seen my soul?”

“i’m not even looking at you, babe,” Stretch scoffed. Hardly his best attempt at obfuscation; his hands twitched briefly into fists before forcibly relaxing, his mandible going tight as his jaw clenched. Little tells revealing unwanted truths. 

This wasn’t the time for it, his husband was still hurting, but Edge couldn’t help demanding, raw panic rising through his rigid control. “That is not what I asked, give me a straightforward answer for once! _Have you seen my soul?”_

The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few breaths, a quiet eternity before a soft, pained confession, “yeah.”

Now that he understood, clarity was coming in strong waves, splashing into him and knocking him off balance, but he _understood_ , all too well. “You saw when we first arrived here. Didn’t you.” Fresh from Underfell, his LV still boiling so close to the surface before he’d better learned to control it. Snarling at every perceived insult while it throbbed hotly in his soul, demanding kill or be killed, but not here, not in this place, never again, and Stretch had seen that, had…had _hated_ him then, most of those insults were from _him._

“yeah. i did.” Softer yet, thickly. The arm that wasn’t over Stretch’s sockets reached out, his slender hand grasping. Edge scrambled back from it thoughtlessly, nearly wrenching his ankle and ignoring the jagged protest of pain shooting up his leg. Unable to touch, not right now, not with the sourness sitting at the back of his tongue, his bitter gorge rising. His brother never told him about any of this and now Stretch was only admitting to it years later, he’d _seen_ and he never said—

Edge closed his sockets, forcing himself to take a long, calming breath. This shouldn’t be such an issue; he’d seen Stretch’s soul a dozen times now, hypocrite that he was, held it in his hand, taken comfort from it, felt the slick welling from it in the moment of orgasm, silvery sleek against his bare phalanges. He’d seen Stretch at the very peak of his vulnerability, been given that gift time and again.

He may never have offered that in return, but Stretch had seen his soul and he was still here. Had sought Edge out from the beginning, those first cautious flirtations came even after he’d seen, even after all the ugliness already between them back then. In this world, sharing souls didn’t even hold the same level of importance, casually summoning them for doctors to treat or scientists to study. It shouldn’t be an issue and Edge wanted to say it was all right and couldn’t. “When was the last time you saw it?”

That grasping hand wilted, settling empty back on Stretch’s chest, and Edge couldn’t stifle the unwilling thought that it was close to his soul, “a little while before we started dating,” Stretch admitted, still achingly soft, “right around when i decided that i didn’t give a shit what ass-gore wanted, i was washing my hands of the whole judging biz. this is the only time it’s ever done any good for me, anyway, never felt like it ever helped anyone else, it only ever hurt them.”

“And you haven’t looked since?” Edge demanded. Not that he didn’t believe him, he did…and he didn’t, he needed to hear it. “Why?”

That barricading arm rose and Stretch looked out at him from under it. His eye lights filled his sockets, not their normal pale white but a faded orange, blearily diffused, Edge wasn’t even sure how much he could actually see, souls or otherwise, as Stretch said, simply, “you don’t want me to see it.”

The words were hardly accusatory, but Edge couldn’t stop a flinch. The urge to run away was strong, to flee…and go where? There wasn't anywhere he could go to hide what had already been seen. 

Stretch said nothing, only closed his sockets again and slumped back down. Expecting perhaps to be shouted at for…not lying, not this time, but certainly a creative withholding of information. Red lying to him was nothing new, but there were a dozen times Stretch could have brought up the fact he'd already seen Edge's soul, more, any time Edge asked to see his, he could have spoken of this.

Only, Edge knew something else about lies, from his brother. At some point, the lie becomes too big, the burden barely balanced, and for Stretch to bring it up would be risking exactly this. The lie became less important than the fact that it was kept for so long. Some might consider it better to keep waiting and hope it never came up. Someone who was entirely too adept at avoiding confrontations, who hated to disappoint anyone, who sometimes gave off a façade of carelessness that was only a thin disguise for how deeply he did care. 

Someone like Stretch. 

"It’s ironic," Edge said at last. He felt oddly distant, speaking from outside himself. “I was just talking to Dr. Lee about my inability to show my soul to you and you’ve already seen it.”

“i didn’t mean to.” His voice was so achingly small, then louder, cautiously interested, “you saw doc lee?

“For my assessment,” Edge admitted. The shame was grounding, jarring him back to earth, and who was he to complain about a discreet withholding of information? He’d never meant to keep his visit a secret, only planned to discuss it at the right time, or so he’d told himself, for several days now. “She wants to see me again.”

“gonna go?” The words held no judgment, and Edge held back a pained bark of laughter at his own unintentional mental pun.

“Yes.”

“that’s good. she's good.”

“It is good,” Edge said roughly, “because you deserve to see my soul and not simply when you can’t help it.”

“babe, you don’t need to—"

The distance between them was abruptly wrong instead of a reprieve. Edge crawled back over to him and kissed him softly to silence him, tasting his relief as Stretch pushed into his touch. It soothed, some, but the jangling agitation in his chest was still stirring warningly hard. He wanted to be here and didn’t, he wanted to hold Stretch and push him away, a painful conflict that needed resolved. He drew away again despite Stretch’s tiny sound of protest, “I need a minute. I’m not angry at you, I promise. But I need some time to think.”

“yeah, i get it,” Stretch sagged back into the sofa. “go on, do what you gotta do. i’ll be here when you get back, i’m not going anywhere.”

An implied promise and a near threat in one and Edge cherished it. He snatched up his cane and struggled to his feet, limping outside. On the porch, he paused to tighten the straps on his leg brace. It helped, increasing the support as he started off into the cool evening. After standing in place for so long, walking felt good, the sidewalks emptier than normal even at this hour. The other joggers he occasionally saw were probably already home, the sweat built up from searching for Jude showered away and curled up for their favorite nighttime activity with their family. And here he was, alone, with the cold air against his bare skull bracing, clarifying, as he walked. Despite what he’d told Stretch, thinking was more the opposite of what he was doing. He let his mind wander, focusing on nothing at all, let the agitation swirling in his soul ease and settle. He didn’t need the violence of sparring to settle his LV, not this time.

He wandered through the empty streets, letting time pass without a gauge. Until the ache in his leg began to threaten again and his soul was calm and by then, his wandering had already taken him back to his own street. Back to his home. 

When he stepped inside, he saw Stretch was curled asleep on the sofa, half-buried in the blanket. As Edge watched, he let out a faint, shuddery sound, his breath hitching. There were faint stains still visible on his cheek bones; he’d been crying, and remorse settled in. Edge had needed his space, but he didn’t wanted it at the cost of more pain for his love.

Edge sat down with him, his hip on the edge of the sofa cushion, tracing one pale orange streak down Stretch’s cheekbone with a gloved fingertip. Even now, he was the loveliest thing Edge had ever seen, his sunrise and starlight together, shining brightly from a perfect soul.

Stretch stirred, his sockets drifting open and before he could even properly focus, he smiled, sleepily beautiful as he mumbled, “hey, babe.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Some of that openness closed over, shading his eye lights as he woke further, hesitantly asking, “everything okay?”

“Okay in that we’re back to the status quo, yes.” Edge stripped off his gloves, infinitely cautious of his sharpened fingertips as he gently cupped Stretch’s face, cradling it between his palms. 

Stretch’s sockets went wide, unsurprisingly considering how rarely Edge touched him ungloved. That much, at least, was a vulnerability that Edge could offer him. “what do you—“

He broke off as Edge leaned in to kiss him, his sweet breath sighed out between them. It lasted longer than Edge meant, he lingered, one kiss merging into the next, the next, and he drew away with only the greatest reluctance, taking in the renewed haze in Stretch’s eye lights with satisfaction. 

“I want to share my soul with you, love, I do. But I’m not ready yet,” Edge admitted. “Even knowing that you’ve already seen it I—I can’t.”

The gentle smile that softened Stretch’s mouth nearly made Edge lunge in for another kiss. “that’s okay. babe, seriously. i don’t need it. i love you, all of you, seen and unseen.” He cupped the side of Edge’s face, his thumb gentle as it ran Edge’s cheekbone, skirting along the crack that ran through it.

It wasn’t okay. Edge was no judge, but the unfairness of it grated; they should be equal partners, they should, he trusted Stretch beyond words, with his very life. And yet, showing his soul still felt like too much, an instinctive rejection of offering up his own weaknesses that even his brother’s training couldn’t overcome. As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn’t. Not yet. 

But he couldn’t not give something. Stretch was touching his hands now, his blunted fingertips grazing against the slender, scarred bones, appreciating the novelty of it. That was something, but wasn’t enough, there must be some other vulnerability he could offer as proof of the measure of his trust. He had to equalize at least a little, couldn’t let Stretch bare himself down to his very essence every time and offer nothing in return.

It didn’t take much coaxing to get Stretch to shift back enough for Edge to settle next to him, nestled in as the smaller spoon. He took Stretch’s hands in his own, twining their bared fingers in a gentle knot, their wedding bands nested together in the same fashion as their bodies. “I’ve never told you why I’m afraid of spiders, have I.”

Stretch shifted, his arms briefly tightening, wary curiosity roused as he said, slowly, his warm breath brushing Edge’s skull. “no, you haven’t.”

The words were difficult, stalling unspoken on his tongue. Edge closed his sockets, and let his head fall back against Stretch’s sternum, right above where his soul would manifest if he called for it. With some difficulty, he dredged up his voice and the words came easier once they were begun, "When I was a child, my brother and I were living on the streets in New Home for a time--"

* * *

Some hours later, the chime of a phone woke Edge. He managed to detangle his hand from Stretch’s, fumbling out to check whatever message someone at the Embassy thought urgent enough to send in the middle of the night. But to his weary surprise, the phone he came back with was not his own, but Stretch’s.

Normally, Edge would respect Stretch's privacy and even if he didn’t, the whims of his Twitter menagerie held very little interest for him. But tonight, they’d earned their rest and he didn't want the phone to wake Stretch. He started to turn off the notifications then paused.

It was a text from Red. Another Judge and secret keeper, and Edge unlocked the phone to check it with hardly a twinge of guilt.

_knock knock._

Edge considered the text, studying those words like the puzzle they likely were. Long minutes passed, then another light chime and the screen lit up. 

_c’mon, knock knock…please._

His brother saying please was surely a sign of impending doom. Morbid curiosity drove Edge to finally reply, **who’s there.**

_iowa_

**iowa who**

_iowa big ass apology to you. sorry, kid._

Behind him, Stretch finally stirred, his chin digging into Edge’s scapula as he peered over his shoulder blearily, “who is it?”

"My brother. He's apologizing." And if a please meant impending doom, Edge had no idea what to make of that. Either they should be running for a bunker or buying a lottery ticket, there was no way to tell. 

"hnnn,” Stretch sank back down and made a fair attempt at burrowing into Edge’s spine. Lacking that, he settled for the blanket and to be as close as physically possible, more so, Stretch did often treat time/space as less of a rule than a suggestion. “tell him he's a dick for me. a big ol' meaty one."

"I'll refrain from commenting on my brother's genitals in any capacity, if you don't mind, and tell him the apology is accepted."

“works for me.”

Edge sent the text and tossed the phone back on the coffee table. It was past midnight, they’d been asleep together for hours. “I should make something for a late dinner.”

Stretch’s grip abruptly became strangling, his slender arms more like steel. “Or I can stay here and we’ll eat later,” Edge conceded, sinking back down. The blankets were invitingly warm and so was Stretch, far more enticing than even the finest meal from the heavens, much less the leftovers in their fridge.

“good idea, glad you came up with it.”

“I have my moments,” Edge murmured, squirming loose enough to turn and rest his skull on Stretch’s chest. They’d never made it back out to the chicken coop, he realized, to see if Nugget’s persistence with her stolen egg was rewarded and how. Well, that could be dealt with tomorrow morning, along with checking in on Undyne. It seemed her baby shower would be postponed until the literal baby could attend themselves.

His drowsiness was beckoning him back down. Faintly, Edge could hear a soft throb from within the cage of Stretch’s ribs, the light, lulling pulse of his unsummoned soul, and Edge let sleep claim him again.

* * *

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read Edge's story about why he's afraid of spiders, you can find it here: [Said the Spider to the Fly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056994/chapters/46197373)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to check in with Sans's side of the story, so here's a little kustard to sweeten this chapter!

* * *

Sans was tired. 

Not just any old tired, he was used to that. This was the kind of tired that sank right into the bones, settled in the joints. Made it feel like taking a single step was more trouble than it was worth and that maybe a nap right here would be a great plan, the best. That kind of tired, where Papyrus used to find him asleep in a sentry station or a tree or a snow pouf, or once, draped across the Snowdin sign with his own little personal drift of snow piling up on his skull. 

Back in those days, Paps usually carried him home and Sans would listen to his loud scolding through whichever earhole was closer, depending on which shoulder he was tossed over. 

Times changed and that wasn’t an option anymore. Falling asleep on the sidewalk in New New Home tended to get the worried phone calls going, such a shame. After this day, Sans kinda didn’t want to rile everyone up again, and sure as hell not over him.

Once word got around that the kid was found, after a lot of whooping and hollering most of the other searchers headed back over to Edge’s place. Like maybe after all that looking and not finding, they needed to lay eyes on the kid for some kind of confirmation, so they wouldn’t wake up at 3am, hearts pounding and their anxiety ratcheted to eleven as they looked wildly around their bedrooms for a child that wasn’t gonna be there. 

Sans wasn’t about to head over to that side of town again. Not that he was above a little bad dream action of his own. He was just too tired to care. Nightmares didn’t matter, none of it mattered except that the kid was home safe. 

So instead, he kept in the shadows and closed his sockets, concentrated on tamping It back down. It, the It, not a horror-show critter from some cheap paperback book, but his own personal whisper at the back of his skull that only came out on special occasions. 

Outside of an actual Judgement, Sans didn’t want to know his neighbor’s dark secrets, thanks. Who the fuck would? Take a glance at someone you thought was a friend and find out they secretly hated you, only stayed around ‘cause you were useful. Getting to meet all the freaky skeletons that people kept hanging around in their closets, all the darkness they kept hidden inside. Sans’s extended family was big enough, those skellies were just gonna have to stay inside with the door shut. 

Tonight, he’d let all the little sins sluice over him like water, trying not to look at souls and there were plenty of them, everyone in town was out looking. He’d only focused on names, flicking through them like a mental rolodex, searching for Jude, whose worst transgression was probably sassing his mama and now, running off on his own. 

He’d done okay with it and as reluctant as Stretch had been to flip on his internal light switch, he said he did, too. But a coupla hours of searching while turned on in the less fun way left Sans headachy and vaguely nauseous, his vision blurred. The last thing he needed right now was to add in a loud, celebrating crowd.

So heading off home it was, jiggity jig, and he hoped Stretch was in a confessing sort of mood, ‘cause there was no way the Edgelord wasn’t going to notice his honey was feeling like his nonexistent brains were gonna start trickling out his equally absent ears. Now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. 

Sans came out of the shortcut in a stumble and nearly fell on his ass, ironically saved by his long past experiences of staggering home drunk through the snow from Grillby’s. Normally, he would’ve gone right for the living room, but outside was a little safer, more open space. Fusing with the coffee table right now was more than Sans wanted to deal with sober. 

That meant he was forced to dig for his keys, and for a wonder, he got it into the keyhole on the first try, all that practice finding holes in the dark was serving him well. There was actually a line of ‘em down the doorjamb, but Red only locked one on any given day; he had enough other security to not even need them, really, but he liked the idea of any burglars trying to figure out which one was the day’s golden ticket.

Sans got that. It’s the little amusements that make life worth living. 

A little jiggle and Sans got the door open. He stepped inside, vaguely thinking that the carpet in the living room was probably comfy enough for a snooze…and stopped. 

Ah.

Red was lying on the sofa, one leg dangling awkwardly off the side and an arm slung over his sockets. Between his femurs, Ozzy was curled up, his paler tail flicking over the black material of Red’s shorts like a snake in dark water. Red’d been holed up all evening doing his own search in his little basement panic room where a clutter of monitors linked to hacked security cameras showed the entire town, like a fucking low rent ‘Five Nights At Freddy’s’ clone. 

Last time Sans saw him, Red was hunched over the setup like a gargoyle, crimson eye lights searching every inch of the screens and if the deep, rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets never stopped Red before, why would Sans grousing at him be any different? He’d left Red to it and gone out on his own search, texting Stretch along the way. 

Red didn’t look up, didn’t so much as twitch a pinkie toe, and Sans carefully closed the door behind him, turning the knob and holding it to let the latch ease in instead of clicking shut. He toed off his shoes, his socks silent on the carpet as he walked over. 

“they found the kid,” Sans said softly. Even beneath that concealing arm, he saw the flinch and lowered his voice even more, “guessing you saw that.”

A beat of silence, then, “yeah. the honey bun found the kid, ‘course he did.” Red sighed tiredly. “sure wish someone else’d stumbled over him first. stretch don’t need to be dealing with that hangover after i already ripped him a second asshole earlier.”

“eh, he never had a first asshole, unless you count the way he was acting about fuzzy buns being at undyne’s baby jamboree.” Sans shuffled over and pulled himself up to sit on the arm of the sofa, his own exhaustion moving from the main hob to the back burner. He settled a hand on Red’s skull, cautious and light and Red didn’t jerk away, but neither did he lean into the touch. “gonna sulk all night?” Sans asked lightly. “’cause if so, i’m not gonna go down on you this week. guilt tastes worse than asparagus.” 

“now i know that ain’t true or you’d’ve been bitching already every time you sucked me off.” Red was quiet a long time, the only sound the light scrape of Sans’s phalanges moving over his skull, then he said, hoarsely, “that was a shitty thing i said to him.” And Sans wondered that Red was even able to wrench the words out, barbed and painful as they were, ground out like broken glass, “yeah, wasn't exactly my fault. don't make it less shitty."

“wasn’t your fault,” Sans agreed, softly, “it was mine, for pushing you to come for family funtimes only a day after judging someone. especially since you hadn't done it in a long time.” Underneath the barricade of Red’s arm, Sans traced the crack that ran down his cheekbone with a single finger. It was plenty old, the edges rounded and dulled over time. Might’ve even been a kid when it happened, Red didn’t say and Sans didn’t ask. 

“guess i was out of practice.” His tone implied that maybe he needed to get back into shape and Sans made a mental note to remind ol' Fuzzy Buns that Red might have some clout in the security department, but he was the local Judge, thanks, and Red stepping in was only for extenuating circumstances. 

He only realized he’d stopped his gentle petting when Red shifted under his hand in a way that heavily implied he should start up again without actually saying it, ‘cause why ask for what you need when you can go with vague insinuation. He still did it with gentle care and Red sighed out, “stretch’d understand if i told ‘im, but i'd have to explain ta him who i was judgin’ and why you couldn’t. that ain't happenin'”

“nope,” Sans said, popping the p. Too loud, Red flinched under his hand and Sans rubbed his forehead in apology. Whatever else they argued about, that was one thing Sans agreed with. Jerry needed Judged, his heaping serving of treason demanded it, but Sans being one of the injured party made for a helluva conflict of interest. That Red’s bro was involved was already pushing it. 

But there wasn’t any reason for Stretch to know about any of this shit; he’d never wanted into the Embassy biz past his twitter contributions and Sans was more than happy to keep that info in-house. It needed to be done, it was _justified_ , and Sans only saw the aftermath of Red’s Judgement, (the quivering, the blood—how could anyone still be alive after—) but he was still adding an extra nightmare or two to his regularly scheduled program. 

He thought of the hairline crack in Pap’s skull, the way he still lost his balance sometimes, often enough that he carried a cane whenever he left the house. Of Edge limping even weeks later, his leg still encased in a splint, of Toriel quietly telling him about Frisk’s occasional nightmares and Blue mostly unhurt but almost desperate to take care of someone who was. He thought of that and rubbed his thumb right between Red’s sockets where his own skull always ached after Judging. Yeah, he should’ve made Red stay home a couple more days, made sure his skull was back on straight and not still fractured on the inside as well as the out, ready to lash out viciously at the tiniest of sins, even just being an asshole about a silly party.

His fault, but Red was the one who had to deal with it. “so you don’t tell him. make it up to stretch another way.”

“i will,” Red agreed. He moved then, not to reach for Sans but for the fucking cat, gently scratching her head and starting up her motor into a rusty purr. He added, slyly, “if you're gonna stir up shit, gotta be prepared to lick the spoon.”

“you can take that double entendre and stick it innuendo.” Sans kept petting him anyway; maybe if he was lucky, he could get his kitty to purr, too. 

Red’s laptop was sitting open on the coffee table. It looked like it was stolen from the recycling bin of Frankenstein’s castle, with peeling gas station stickers all over the lid and the letters missing on most of the keys, but had an overclocked Harley of a processor inside. The security cams were still pulled up and Sans didn’t need a second glance to see it was showing Stretch and Edge’s backyard cast in eerie night vision green. An unblinking electronic eye looking at the doors and windows and chicken coop, watching over them. 

A flicker of movement caught his attention and Sans frowned. He leaned forward, reaching out to twitch the camera left towards the coop, zooming in, squinting at the vaguely blurred image until it came into proper focus. “is that…?”

Red was already moving despite Ozzy’s yowl of disgruntled protest. The cat gave them both a deeply offended look and stalked away, but neither of them noticed. They were watching the screen and the tiny figures moving across it to the feed trough.

“well, i’ll be damned. that fucking egg finally hatched.” Red slumped back on the sofa with a chuckle, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, “fucking finally, went through enough trouble to get it.”

He had, the day after Red stopped that fox from making Nugget’s name more literal and the little shit showed her gratitude by taking off. Red’s frantic attempt to somehow replace what he’d lost, at least a little, was bizarre and oddly touching. 

“and the guy selling the eggs didn’t look like he took refunds,” Sans said dryly. “only you would get someone another pet as an add-on to make up for almost losing the first one. what if something’d happened to that bird or edge found her first? were you gonna ditch that plan for a breakfast scramble instead?”

“eh, it worked out. ‘sides, they had two other chickens, woulda stuck mister egg under one of them.” Red grinned suddenly, “the honey bun is gonna flip his shit.”

And you’ll get to watch your brother watching him, Sans did not say, sharing happiness, twice removed. Instead, he shoved Red over a little to get onto the couch cushions proper. His grumble sounded terribly reminiscent of Ozzy’s and he sank back down against Sans in about the same way as the cat. Grudging and needy, cantankerous and demanding. Sans waited until he’d settled in, one scarred finger hooked loosely into the collar that was around his throat, then he started petting again even as Red drowsed off. Sans managed to hang in a little longer before heading off to sleepytimes himself, gently tracing the arch and curve of familiar, scarred bones. 

He never did get a purr, but eh, that was okay. Sans was pretty good at hearing things that were never given voice.

* * *

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Edge woke far later than normal to the sound of the shower running. He jerked halfway upright in the bed, briefly disoriented, before the events of the day before came back to him in a rush. The baby shower planning, the discussion with Stretch about having children, or rather not having them, Janice’s son getting lost, and learning that Stretch’s abilities as a Judge allowed him see Monster souls, including his own. 

Small wonder he’d overslept, Any one of those things would be tiring but put together it was entirely too much for a single day, particularly one where he and Stretch finally came upstairs in the wee hours of the morning, barely taking the time to shed their clothes before flopping together into their bed. 

At least Stretch seemed to be somewhat recovered if he were up to taking a shower. Edge sank back against the mattress, kicking the blankets from his feet as he stretched with joint-popping bliss, luxuriating in a moment of uncommon laziness. As stressful as the day before had been it had also been cathartic in some ways, certain issues clouded between him and Stretch discussed then cleared away. 

This morning his leg felt fine even without the brace, without even a trace of a pain. It was actually healing as the doctor promised it would, despite Edge’s occasional loose interpretation of their directions, and as time passed it would keep getting better until the injury was only a memory and an occasional ache on very cold days. 

Getting back to normal, that was all. The term ‘normal’ when it came to their lives was certainly up for creative interpretation, but it honestly felt like they were getting to it. Of course, that was dependent on nothing new cropping up in their lives and it surely would. It didn’t matter, whatever came he and Stretch would face it together. 

Thinking of togetherness, Edge rolled out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. Muffled strains of music were coming through the closed door and when he opened it, it poured out, bright and pop-cheerful. Behind the shower curtain, oblivious to his audience, Stretch was singing along. He’d always had a lovely singing voice, husky sweet and pitch perfect but it was the lyrics that gave Edge a pause.

“i’d get down on my knees, i’d do anything for you…ohhhh, i don’t want anybody else, when i think about you, i touch myself…”

Well, that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

Edge only took long enough to strip of his pajamas, casting them off in a rare messy pile on the floor before sliding around the shower curtain. He was ready for Stretch to yelp and jump, catching him before he could slip on the wet porcelain. His lovely bones were slick with water and soap, and he was blinking through the spray, his pale eye lights still bright from the surprise.

“holy shit, babe,” Stretch sputtered, licking water from his teeth. “a little warning would be nice!” 

Edge only shifted Stretch in his arms, settling him with his spine pressed firmly against Edge’s chest. At his silent urging, Stretch let his head drop back against Edge’s shoulder, huffing a groan as Edge murmured against his skull. “And miss the chance to sweep you off your feet?”

“you can get in your gropes without giving me a—oooh,” Stretch broke off and Edge smirked, mouthing lightly at his scapula as his hands wandered lower, his bare fingers seeking out places he knew were sensitive, pressing and stroking until Stretch shivered in his arms despite the heat of the water pouring down on them. 

“What was that?” Edge crooned. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

“baaaaaabe,” Stretch moaned. He squirmed, his pelvis scraping tantalizingly against Edge’s. “this isn’t fair.”

“No? I was only trying to confirm the truth of your statement,” and before Stretch could ask, “Do you, then? Touch yourself when you think about me?”

“heh.” That squirm turned into a deliberate grind and Edge caught his breath, “want a demonstration?”

As it turned out, by the time Stretch was finished ‘demonstrating’, they both needed another shower and Edge was never more pleased to have splurged on their hot water heater. The chance to hold Stretch in his arms for longer without any chilly surprises was well worth the extra cost.

* * *

It was a few hours later that Edge was finishing buttoning his shirt, giving his husband a sideways look where he was still sprawled out on the bed, entirely naked except for a single sock that was still sagging at the ankle. The other was in his hand, waiting for its owner to either work up the energy to put it on or to abandoned it to its lonely fate.

Tipping the scales in favor of wearing might be in order. “Are you planning on putting that sock on or do you need longer to bond?”

“i’ll put it on as soon as i can feel my feet,” Stretch sighed out dreamily, “babe, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“In a variety of ways,” Edge said serenely. “I do well with entrances.” He sat on the side of the bed next to Stretch and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss before snatching up the sweatshirt beside him and dropping it on his head. “Come on, get dressed, we need to check on the chickens. I believe there may have been an event we missed.”

Stretch lurched upright, fighting his way out of the clinging folds of the sweatshirt to give Edge a stricken look, “fuck, i forgot!” The sweatshirt was only half on when he started for the door and he was still struggling to pull it over his skull when he made for the stairs.

“Pants!” Edge shouted after him. Their neighbors asked so little of them and he really didn’t think that no unexpected nudity was an unreasonable request. 

A shout floated back up, “bring ‘em with you and i’ll get the coffee going!” 

Edge only shook his head and retrieved a clean pair of track pants from their dresser. However this might end, at least it would be with a reasonable amount of dignity.

Well, that might be a _tall_ ask of Stretch and if he couldn’t be clothed in dignity, pants would have to do, so long as it wasn’t the _bare_ minimum. 

Edge stifled his grin and headed for the stairs, pants in hand and ready to share that particular witticism with his husband. Anytime was a good time for pun to Stretch, but over morning coffee held a certain brewtiful appeal. 

It was with puns exchanged (among them was Stretch declaration that so many jokes this early was a _latte_ to handle) and coffee in hand that they finally made their way to the chicken coop to investigate yesterday’s happenings. The morning air was still tinged cool, only hinting at the afternoon’s predicted warmth and Stretch shuffled through the fallen leaves to the coop door where Noodle and Dumpling were already waiting impatiently for the bringer of their breakfast.

“yeah, sorry, gals,” Stretch set his coffee cup down outside the coop before opening the door. He leaned over to give them each a brief pat before heading to the feed trough. “i know, we’re running late. let’s get you fed before checking on your sis, okay?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too far up,” Edge cautioned. He set his cup alongside Stretch's and followed him inside. “I can’t even calculate the odds of her not only finding a fertilized egg but also managing to hatch it.” Her finding an egg at all was a question that Edge already decided not to look into too deeply.

“i can calculate it and trust me, it’s a lot of decimal points. don’t worry,” Stretch said as he measured out a scoopful of feed. “i won’t. not even sure i wanna meet whatever’s supposed to come out of the cryptid egg she stole. hope nugget isn’t too disappointed when her basilisk doesn’t hatch.”

The sound of feed pouring into the trough was enough to summon the smallest of their wayward poultry. Nugget poked her small head through the coop’s door flap, chirring inquisitively, and then darting out to beeline right for the feed. Hungry indeed, she didn’t detour even briefly in Edge’s direction, intent on her pursuit of tasty grains.

But it wasn’t Nugget that had their attention. Behind her, coming from the coop was a faint sound, a peeping reminiscent of those Edge heard on the farm back when he was considering whether to invest in chickens of their own. Stretch only stood frozen, staring at the coop door and Edge was the one who finally opened it and stepped inside. 

They’d persuaded Nugget to abandon the plastic bucket she’d nested in for one of the coop boxes, lining it with soft hay and that was where the sound was coming from. The single caged bulb overhead didn’t provide much light and Edge peered into the darkened nest, his sockets narrowed. Nearly buried into the hay was a tiny ball of yellow fluff. Edge reached for it, scooping it cautiously into his hands and bringing it out into the light. 

Stretch hovered over his shoulder anxiously, “is that…what is it?”

From the rounded cup of his hands, a tiny, billed head poked out. Webbed feet shifted against his palm as the little creature peeped anxiously, its eyes dark against the bright yellow fluff.

“it’s a duckling! holy shit!” Stretch managed to keep his delight to a muted squeal, reaching out with cautiously grabby hands. Very carefully, Edge deposited it into his hands, watching as the little bird settled against the warm bones. “this is way better than a basilisk!”

“I believe the neighbors will agree,” Edge said dryly, watching as Stretch very gently inspected their newest acquisition, petting that feathery softness. “Is it male or female?”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “welp, all the years i spent studying physics instead of zoology are letting us down here, babe. i’ve barely got ‘duck’ cleared, if you want a more detailed report, you’re gonna have to hire a pro.”

“Understood,” Edge said. He looked out the door at their backyard, freshly layered in falling leaves. “What on earth are we going to do with a duck?”

Stretch only held the little duckling closer to his chest with a gasp, “we can’t get rid of it!”

“Of course not,” Edge said, exasperated, “I’m not suggesting we drop it off at the local livestock orphanage, it was a legitimate question. We’ll need to make arrangements for it, ducks may have different nutritional needs than chickens. It will need some sort of pond to swim in and—” He broke off as Stretch gave him a look. “What?”

That gentle smile matched the softness in Stretch’s eye lights as they briefly flashed into hearts, shining with love, “nothing, babe. you’re really gonna let me keep cheese?”

Edge blinked. “Did you just call that duckling ‘Cheese’?”

“yeah.” Stretch grinned. “short for cheese and quackers.”

“Oh, for—” Edge sighed. “I walked right into that one.”

“headfirst,” Stretch agreed. “don’t feel bad, i left the door wide open.” At that moment Nugget came wandering back into the coop and started to make concerned motherly noises. Stretch hastily set the duckling, no, Cheese back into the nesting box. Nugget hopped up into it, squirming back to bury her child beneath the bulk of her feathery warmth. 

“guess introductions are over.” Lacking a tiny duckling to hold, Stretch settled for flinging his arms around Edge and giving him a hard squeeze. “c’mon, hot coffee waits for no fowl and cold coffee is foul, so let’s get ours.”

“You’re an endless font of hilarity, love.” Edge followed him out and the two of them retrieved their cups. By unspoken agreement, they settled to sit at the patio, sipping their coffee as the trees rustled softly around them. 

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and Edge checked it to see a text from Papyrus. Ah, another loose end from yesterday’s tapestry to tie up. He opened the text to find not a jumbled of excited words but a picture. Of Undyne in a hospital bed, looking both weary and elated, Alphys at her side, but it was the small bundle in their arms that drew Edge’s gaze. 

The only thing visible from the swaddling of striped blankets was the child’s face, the same deep blue skin tone as their mother and a small tuft of red fronds falling over their forehead. Childbirth seemed to have left a certain squashed quality to that face that hadn’t had time yet to fade, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, and as Edge studied the picture another text came through. 

_It’s a girl!_

A girl, a little niece to spoil and teach, and Edge could already picture her toddling along and joining the other children as they followed Stretch around very much like ducklings as he taught them science and experiments, spending his weekends building snowmen and painting excited faces. Without making any undue assumptions, Edge could imagine the formidable child that Undyne and Papyrus’s genes would produce and the adventures that might come of it, the coming years would certainly be interesting and—

“is that the baby?”

Almost, Edge twitched his phone away before Stretch could see the picture. But none of yesterday's upset or melancholy appeared, Stretch only looked at it with an appropriate expression of interest, smiling widely. 

“aww, what a cutey,” Stretch cooed. “tell undyne she does good work.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and did so. Before he set his phone aside, another picture came through, this time with Papyrus holding the baby, the very vision of a delighted uncle and why his arm was in a sling, Edge decided not to ask. The story of Undyne’s labor and delivery was likely an epic one and not to be heard before plenty of coffee. He was nearly ready for a second cup when Stretch spoke again.

“so,” Stretch began. He shuffled his feet against the porch, his coffee cup held tightly in both hands. “you wanna get started on the pond today?”

Edge smiled faintly. “Of course, love, best to get it ready before Cheese needs it.”

He watched as Stretch lit up, equally delighted by his answer and his ready use of Stretch’s chosen name. It was hardly more ridiculous than Noodle, Nugget, and Dumpling, and besides, their baby deserved the best, too, did it not?

A pond and some research into their little duckling’s needs, that was the challenge for the day and Edge was more than up for it, so long as Stretch was by his side. 

Edge set his cup on the table and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his, slender fingers tangling with his own. He ran his thumb over Stretch’s wedding band, the smooth metal body-warm. Together, no matter what, and Edge was ready for that adventure as well and any that came along with it, for the rest of his life. 

Even when it included unexpected additions. 

-finis


End file.
